


Demand.

by Skipz12



Series: Fine Stud Lexa [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fine Stud Lexa, Smut, daddy lexa, wrote it because these tumblr posts are inspiring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:43:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6281443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skipz12/pseuds/Skipz12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Take off your clothes Clarke."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demand.

**Author's Note:**

> Dippin my toe into a new fandom. Feel free to leave feedback, its much appreciated. Just a quick fic.
> 
> Also the accompanying tumblr post (http://skipz12.tumblr.com/post/141243065738/take-off-your-clothes-clarke-fic-x-inspired)

“Take off your clothes”

It’s a soft request, but the voice attached to it is so deep and husky and _hungry_.

She wants to act like she doesn’t hear her.

Doesn’t have shivers running up her arms and neck, doesn’t feel moisture pooling in her mouth…and elsewhere.

“I have to get this done” and no she doesn’t. It’s her gallery, her showing, her time frame, but she hates being this easy. She doesn’t need to turn to see the other girls lips upturn in a smirk, she can feel it. She can imagine it. The way her suit coat is open, only a button away from displaying it all, the way her brown hair tumbles across her shoulder like a Pantene commercial, that black sleek Movado on her wrist, the Cartier bracelet around her other. She can hear her slow delicious sips of that _fucking_ expensive Balvenie scotch; she sees her throat bob and ripple as she tips back the last of it, so clearly behind her eyelids she nearly drops her brush.

But she’s not gonna turn around. She is not this easy.

“You can still get it done _Clarke…_ ” The way she swirls her tongue around that K, Clarke can imagine it doing so much more, and _fuck_ she’s breaking already. “This way is just more fun for me”

She swivels her desk chair at that with indignation coloring her features.

“This isn’t about you Lexa. I have work to do”

And she’s messed up, made a crucial error, because she could barely handle imagining what her wife would look like but seeing it makes her mouth go dry instantly. The way she’s leaned back against the couch watching her, devouring her on sight alone. She clenches her thighs together because how long had she been staring, how long had she been looking at her like she wants to eat her for dinner _and_ dessert.

And she laughs.

A soft amused chuckle that reminds Clarke she never had a chance against this woman. Not from the moment she stepped inside her art showing at ARTKadia in DC. Not since she’d taken one look at her and her work and demanded her most expensive piece and paid triple the presented price. And please it wasn’t the money or the power that got Clarke, it was the intention, the intent to show Clarke just how much more she valued her then anyone else ever would. How much she could love her.

She took that intent all the way to the alter.

And now she showed it in those forest green eyes and the promises to show her more made her swallow.

“Trust me when I say, my fun is only about _you_ ” She stares at her wife trying to salvage the last of her willpower but her wife’s face says it all. You lost this round Princess, now give me my prize. “Take off your clothes Clarke”.

She stands her hands at the hem of her V-neck and pulls it up slowly, her golden locks cascading back down over her light blue lace bra. It’s expensive and French and she watches Lexa’s pupils dilate. She goes to her jeans now, her hands hovering over the button and she sees the other woman’s gaze travel down, waiting and she pulls them down slowly til she’s in nothing but her matching underwear.

When her hands move up to her bra, Lexa’s eyes stay on her eyes and Clarke feels like her heart is liable to give out. No matter how many times they do this ( _and trust they’ve done this a lot_ ) she never will be over the way Lexa looks at her.

Like she is the stars and Lexa has somehow managed to grab one.

She lets her bra hit the floor and moves her hands back to her underwear.

“Stop.”

It’s breathy and rough and sends heat straight to Clarke’s core.

And Lexa just watches her, takes her all in. The sun went down an hour ago and the way the city lights gleam through the open windows of their penthouse condo and onto Lexa’s eyes makes them lighten and glow. Her own private constellation of trees and gold flecked earth swirl in her wife’s eyes and she wishes she could explore the vastness of forest within them. She stands top half bare before her wife and does nothing.

“You’re a work of art Clarke, like you were made just for me” the smirks back and Clarkes pulse is racing again. “Sit.”

The commander in her is breaking free and Clarke feels her body slide down before her brain can even comprehend. Raven had called this demanding, control side of Lexa her “Daddy tendencies” and while Clarke had hated the expression she can’t exactly deny it. Lexa is _daddy_ _as fuck_ sometimes and it drives her wild.

She’ll work on what that says about her another time.

Lexa moves toward her in long graceful strides and she has to grip the rests of her chair when she sees Lexa pop open the last button of her jacket and pull it off, because of course she’s wearing nothing else inside. Her fucking wife is so extra, just because you’re the CEO of a multi-billion dollar empire doesn’t mean you can go to work half exposed ( _well she can, doesn’t mean Clarke has to like it though_ ).

She traces the lines of Lexa’s tribal tattoo with her eyes, and when she turns to throw her jacket on the couch she aches to trace the artwork on her back with her tongue. Lexa turns back to her taking her in for one more second before she drops to her knees, hand on Clarkes bare thighs just below her eye level. She’s so close to her, their breaths are mingling and their noses are brushing and Clarke has never wanted to fuck someone, _be fucked by someone_ so bad in her life.

She moves to close the kiss but Lexa backs away, and so she chases her lips again and Lexa backs away once again with that annoying smirk on her face.

“Lexa!” she’s frustrated half out of lust…mostly out of lust and because how can one girl be so intoxicating and so infuriating at the same time. She moves back in Clarkes space hovering a millimeter from her lips once more.

“What?”

“You know what.”

“Yes but I have to hear you say it baby, I need you to tell me what you want” and Lexa is far too close to Clarkes lips, her hand are far too heavy and warm on Clarkes thighs for her to be breathing these words into her mouth, effectively setting her on overdrive.

“Lex, I need you to do something, anything! Just do it right now” Lexa has done nothing except ask her to strip and kneeled before her and has her begging for it. Clarke feels like she’s liable to promise anything if it would get Lexa to stop looking at her like she wants to wreck her and just fucking wreck her.

Lexa bites her own lip lightly before sinfully licking Clarkes and just as Clarke opens her mouth to let Lexa in she backs away once more. She’s just about to grab the woman and smash her lips onto her when Lexa’s lips are suddenly at the base of her throat and her hands are cupping Clarke’s breast and she suddenly feels hot and oversensitive. It’s almost too much to take at once.

Lexa’s right hand is kneading her sensitive mound while the left sneaks into her hair yanking the blonde locks back, exposing more of her neck to Lexa’s assault. She’s gripping the armrest so tight her knuckles are ghosting white against the skin and she’s breathing like she’s run a lap around the room. Lexa moves her kisses lower down the expanse of her chest where she’s flushing red, down to her other exposed breast. She immediately wraps a wet tongue around her nipple and Clarke feels her back arch off the seat. She gives her left one ample attention til Clarke is practically sweating before setting to the other, hand leaving her hair and replacing her mouth.

Free of her grip Clarke moves her head down and watches with blown eyes as Lexa moves down her body, her tongue laps back and forth over her stomach and her hip bones and Clarke is losing her mind. She might have to be committed after this because she’s sure she’ll never think straight again.

Only after Lexa has dipped her tongue in Clarkes navel, dragged it across the edge of her panties, scraped low, manicured long fingers down her ribs does she look back up at Clarke. She knows her eyes are desperate and pleading but Lexa looks up, lips still lightly press to the edge of Clarke’s lace underwear.

_“Clarke…”_ her voice is low and she drags out her name purposely and Clarke knows what she’s asking

“Lexa, please just I want you-“

“No, no Clarke.” Lexa slides her hands inside Clarkes thighs, fingers grasping the edge of her lace. “I don’t want you to tell me what you want, I want you to tell me what you _need._ ”

“Fuck Lexa” Its sounds like prayer coming out of her mouth. She’s so sensitive she almost has to will herself not to cry in lust and frustration. “I _need_ you inside of me…”

She takes a deep breath.

“I need you to **_fuck_** me.”

Lexa responds with a smile pulling Clarkes panties off and tossing the item behind her. She lays a soft kiss to the inside of Clarkes thigh on her birthmark and looks up at the blond once more.

“That’s a good girl.”

Clarke feels her eyes roll back at the first touch of Lexa’s tongue to her center and her hands move to get lost in soft, wavy brown hair. It takes everything in her to not climax right then and there. Lexa begins to move her tongue up and down at an even pace. Not too fast but not excruciatingly slow either, it’s enough to have Clarke riding on the edge and practically riding Lexa’s face along with it.

She may be the artist but she’ll be damned if Lexa’s not painting Picasso’s with her tongue right now.

“Fuck, keep going” She’s panting hard and she can’t stop every tumble and whine that spills out of her mouth. She can feel it building and building, she looks back down and fuck, Lexa is looking right back at her and Clarke screws her eyes shut. She wants to come; wants to like it will cure her of anything that ails her but those eyes. Watching those eyes look at her while Lexa slowly unwinds her from inside out will tear her apart.

She feels Lexa’s hand travel up her chest to her breast while the other starts to rub her clit. She dips her tongue inside her, tasting all of her and Clarke could die like this and know she lived a wonderful life. Her hips jerk up as Lexa buries her tongue deeper inside and Clarke lets out a ragged, guttural moan.

“Don’t Stop, please don’t stop” Lexa moves her hand to Clarkes lips and she immediately sucks two fingers into her mouth. Lexa ups the pace and Clarke can feel it happening.

“Lex, I’m gonna come”

At that, Lexa shoots up face to face with Clarke her fingers replacing her tongue so quick that Clarke can barely notice the switch.

When she opens her eyes she’s met with Lexa’s, so close to her she thinks she can see _in_ her.

“I want you to come for me Clarke, like you do every time I ask, every time _I need you too_ ”

And Clarke can only nod her voice betraying her she leans too Lexa and finally captures her wife’s lips. Its right then that it’s all too much, her fingers curling so deep inside her, her hands in Lexa’s hair, her tongue tasting the scotch still lingering in Lexa’s mouth and with that it pushes her over the edge.

“Lexa **_FUCK!_** ”

She sees white and fireworks behind her eyes. She shakes and holds on to Lexa for dear life as she comes down from her orgasm, waves of pleasure still rocking her body, making her twitch and spasm. Lexa holds her close and lets her ride it out pressing lazy kisses to her neck.

It’s a minute before she’s finally able to sit back and open her eyes and she’s met with Lexa and that fucking smug expression on her face. She watches her stand up in those exquisitely tailored Saint Laurent pants and nothing else and licks her lips. She hates how much she loves her label hoe of a wife.

Lexa looks at her amused as she chuckles at her own thoughts.

“What?”

“You’re such a stud babe” Lexa smirks and grabs her scotch glass, putting fresh ice cubes in it. Clarke walks over, long past the point of being shy about her nudity especially now. She grabs the scotch and pours some for Lexa before taking the glass for herself.

“Stud? Is that what Ravens calling me now?”

Clarke barks a laugh. “No Raven thinks you have _Daddy tendencies_ , because you get all hard and controlling”

Lexa raises a shaped eyebrow. “Daddy?”

“Well you can be” she sips her drink watching Lexa’s face twist over the words.

“Do you like it?”

And for all that bravado and swag, Lexa still looks to her like she can’t quite believe she has her and Clarke intends to show her that she has everything. She grabs her hand and pulls her toward the bedroom.

“Let me show how much I like it”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if the ending felt rushed lolI was trying to finish in the midst of How to get away with Murder and Laurel Castillo is very distracting lol. 
> 
> Also theres probably little grammar errors in this. Im sorry i rushed lol


End file.
